


Long Live

by Of_Ballgowns_Books_and_Tea (Pearl_Antics)



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Long Live, One Shot, QoS Spoilers, QoS did a number on me ok?, Sappy, Song Lyrics, Songfic, i just, so enjoy?, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl_Antics/pseuds/Of_Ballgowns_Books_and_Tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Long live the walls we crashed through<br/>How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you<br/>I was screaming long live all the magic we made<br/>And bring on all the pretenders<br/>One day, we will be remembered</i>
</p><p>Rowan and Aelin as inspired by the song "Long Live."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live

**Author's Note:**

> From Rowan’s perspective. 
> 
> I just finished reading QoS, and my emotions are a total trainwreck. I was listening to the song “Long Live” by Taylor Swift, and then my brain went “OHMYGOD THIS DESCRIBES ROWAN AND AELIN PERFECTLY.” And so here we are. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I never have been, and never will be anywhere as skilled as the lovely SJM. But, here’s my little contribution my poor heart had to make after it was wrecked by QoS. QoS spoilers, so be warned. Mostly in the ship and first paragraph. You have been warned!
> 
> Listen to Long Live by Taylor Swift while reading this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ptritFluOs

_I said remember this moment  
_

_In the back of my mind_

_The time we stood with our shaking hands_

_The crowds in stands went wild_  

      They’d done it. They’d finally done it and defeated the Vlag king, Erawan. Aelin turned, sword still dripping black blood, with Duke Perrington’s sightless eyes gazing upward from her feet, head separated from his body. Erawan was at long last purged out, out of this world and locked up again–and this time far more permanently than the last. Soot was still falling to the ground from the combustion of light and fire and hope that was Aelin’s final deadly move against the Vlag king. So much light and happiness and love, so much that it had burned the evil right out of the Duke, had brought the Dark King of the Vlag to his knees. Aelin turned to him, her eyes shining fiercely as the news of their final victory spread and a great cheer started, one that would be heard from kingdom to kingdom. She walked up to him, covered in blood and dirt and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, an angel of light and vengeance and hope. Gently, he reached out, and brushed his hand down the side of her face, reaching down and grasping her hands in his. They stood there, holding hands that shook slightly, and starting at each other with quiet ferocity, as the cheers of their friends and army around them rose in a wild cacophony calling in the dawn of a new era without fear.

  


_We were the Kings and the Queens_

_And they read off our names_

_The night you danced like you knew our lives_

_Would never be the same_

      That night, world-weary and covered with bone-deep aches, they counted their dead. Many more than they had hoped, but far less than they had feared. Aelin walked among her men and women, and Rowan followed, a silent shadow at her side. Tired but hope-filled faces turned towards them, calling out their names. Aelin of the Wildfire. Rowan, defender of the light. Slowly, it began to sink in that they had done it, had really brought an end to the darkness that had cloaked their world. Aelin spun towards him, her face lighting up as the men and women around them finally let their victory set in, and the cheering, yelling and singing began. She flew at him suddenly, grasping him.

      “Dance with me. “

      He just looked at her, drank her in, alive, victorious, full of fire, and took her hands. They danced like their lives were just starting, full of hope and the knowledge that the world was changing, and would never be the same. And as the lights faded, he took her into their tent, and finally allowed their dance to change into something fiercer and more intimate at long last.

  


_You held your head like a hero_

_On a history book page_

_It was the end of a decade_

_But the start of an age_  

      Rowan had never felt so filled with pride and happiness and light, as he did in this moment, watching his Fireheart be crowned. Aedion read off her titles–Aelin of the Wildfire, Queen and Protector of Terrasen and Defender of the Free, vanquisher of the Vlag–titles that seemed to go on and on. Finally, he finished, and lowering to one knee, held up the pillow with the crown of Terrasen resting on it. Aelin, dressed in an exquisite dress that seemed to be made of flames and sunlight woven together, gently reached down, and picked up the crown. Holding it aloft, so the absolutely silent crowds could see, Aelin slowly reached down, and placed it on her head. As it settled onto her head, the Amulet of Orynth that lay between her breasts started to glow, growing brighter and brighter, until it finally released a golden burst of light that seemed to make the world shine for a moment. The crowd, that had been absolutely silent up until that point, started a rumbling cheer that soon became deafening, chanting “Aelin, Aelin” like she was their hope and salvation wrapped up in one. The chant carried on and on, as she turned to Aedion, and pulled out a dagger that she offered to him, hilt-first. He looked at her with shining, silver-lined eyes, as he accepted, cutting a slash across his palm. She looked at him with eyes just as lined with silver as his, and spoke the words that would bind him to her forever. He offered her his blood, and she delicately lapped at it, sealing him into her court and her heart forever. Holding onto Aedion’s hand, she turned back, reaching for him. He stepped forward, taking his rightful place besides his queen and grasping her hand. As they all three turned to face her people, the chants became deafening, a wordless roar of triumph. It was the start of an era of light and fire and hope, the start of a court to change the world.

  


_Long live the walls we crashed through_

_How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you_

_I was screaming long live all the magic we made_

_And bring on all the pretenders_

_One day, we will be remembered_

      They build up a kingdom of light and love and freedom, a kingdom in which a promise was kept and the arts flourished, and music sang through the air. Aelin built an empire of light and fire and goodness, built it with her blood and fire and helped it to flourish. They crashed through the expectations and constraints of rulers and kingdoms gone by, and created a kingdom in which all were free, and magic and light flourished. Many tried to bring them down, but none succeeded, for Aelin Fireheart, accompanied as always by her Fae Prince, would let her kingdom do nothing but thrive and bloom. People flocked to her, desperate to join in the haven she was creating, and her people grew and grew. She created a golden empire that would be remembered for the ages, a kingdom of fierce beauty and endless burning light.

  


_I said remember this feeling_

_I pass the pictures around_

_Of all the years that we stood there_

_On the sidelines wishing for right now_

      Sometimes, on his worst days, Rowan thought back on his years in service to Maeve, the years he had spent committing horrible atrocities for his queen. He had never thought she deserved his loyalty, but overwhelmed with guilt over the death of his mate–All his fault, his, his, couldn’t save her, worthless mate, worthless warrior-protector, how dare he question, he was worthless, lucky Maeve even bothered with his worthless self–he’d never bothered to question, to hope. But some days, when the sun had shined especially bright, and the very warmth of it seemed to smile at him, he couldn’t keep out that small traitorous thought–that maybe, one day, he’d find a truly worthy queen to serve, a queen who would change the world, not destroy it. A queen he could serve with his whole heart, and know that each move he made for her would be for good.

  


_We are the Kings and the Queens_

_You traded your baseball cap for a crown_

_When they gave us our trophies_

_And we held them up for our town_

_And the cynics were outraged_

_Screaming, "This is absurd!"_

_Cause for a moment a band of thieves_

_In ripped up jeans got to rule the world_

      Rowan remained by Aelin’s side for an eternity, her steady counterpart, a Fae Prince, but also a Prince of Terrasen. He refused to share her throne, content to simply remain at her side, but she insisted on crowning him a prince, one to share her burdens and bed, and eventually, their children. Rulers of neighboring kingdoms, cocky and sure of their own powers, denounced the young, part-Fae queen and her Fae Prince, laughing at the absurdity of her kingdom. They stopped laughing, however, as her kingdom grew and grew, and they realized that this girl, who inspired devotion wherever her reach extended to, was a serious threat to their own rule. But it was too late, and soon, this “fire-breathing bitch-queen” ruled the world–or at the very least, the hearts of people spread far and wide, spreading light wherever she went, rattling the stars.

  


_Long live the walls we crashed through_

_How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you_

_I was screaming long live all the magic we made_

_And bring on all the pretenders_

_I'm not afraid_

_Long live all the mountains we moved_

_I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you_

_I was screaming long live that look on your face_

_And bring on all the pretenders_

_One day, we will be remembered_

_Hold on to spinning around_

_Confetti falls to the ground_

_May these memories break our fall_

       However glorious her rule, however many more years her Fae heritage gave her, Aelin would run out of time eventually. Rowan knew this, but as he watched her slowly age, he felt his heart shatter slowly. He was as transparent to Aelin as always, he knew, and so when she drew him away into the gardens with her, he knew what she wished to talk of. They sat on a bench for what felt like an age, looking at the garden, but not seeing anything but the life they had lived together. Finally, looked at the flowering trees, Aelin spoke. She talked of the things they had accomplished, the magic they had made together, the enemies they had defeated. She whispered of the mountains they had moved to create this empire of glory and hope, of fire and light, tempered and strengthened by his winds and ice. She turned to him at last, and told him that she had had the time of her life fighting beside him, loving him, building an unforgettable legacy with him. She begged him to carry on, to protect what they had created, asking him to continue on without her as he sobbed for all the time they would not have. Finally, she reached for him, gently grasping his face in her increasingly frail hands, and asked him to remember her, to hold onto the memories of what they had done, of what they had been, and to let these memories keep him afloat, to help him continue on without him, protecting their children and all they had created.

  


_Will you take a moment, promise me this_

_That you'll stand by me forever_

_But if God forbid fate should step in_

_And force us into a goodbye_

_If you have children some day_

_When they point to the pictures_

_Please tell them my name_

_Tell them how the crowds went wild_

_Tell them how I hope they shine_

      When little Lysa pointed to the tattoo that wound around and around his arm, and onto his right hand, and asked him what it said, he hesitated for a moment. It may have been centuries, but it had never quite stopped hurting, an old familiar ache that he had learned to live with, if only because of a promise. He had begged her, begged her, to allow him to turn mortal, to die beside her, like the Fae Queens of old had done for their human lovers, but she had refused. “Remember the children, and remember Maeve,” she’d said. And he hated it, abhorred the very idea of her getting old, of her dying without him when he had promised to be at her side for eternity. But she’d insisted. There was no one else who she could trust to protect her children, their children, perfect blends of Aelin’s fire and Rowan’s ice, and their children’s children throughout the ages. And beside, she had whispered, her voice a weak breath, so different from the brash strength of the years past but no less confident, they had had far longer than most. Two weeks of Aelin should be enough for anyone, much less two centuries, she laughed, wincing as it turned into a cough. And for that they had her Fae blood to thank. He had hid his face in her neck at that, and cried, cried because no matter how weak she was, she was still as full of sass as ever, and cried because this would be the last of it that he ever heard. For she was not pure Fae, and that human portion of her heritage had slowly kicked in, dwindling down her unshakable strength until she was laying here, in his arms, dying at long last. She’d built an empire, with him by her side, always. An empire of goodness and light, where everyone was free, and art and learning flowed through the land. A fire-golden empire, one that would be praised for the ages. Her children, as long-lived as she, and indeed more so, for their father was pure-blooded Fae, were the glory of her empire, every one of them as good and light-filled as she. From fiery Nehemia, next in line for the throne and endless champion of justice and peace, to the youngest twins, Marion and Sam. They were her beloved dead brought back to life, as good and glorious as their namesakes. A court to change the world. But even the most glorious of eras had to end. And so she had died at long last, in the arms of the man that was more than a lover, a protector, or even caranam, but a man that was her whole heart. And she his. And when she died that day, she took most of his heart with her. But he did not lay down beside her and give up on life at long last. No, he carried on, holding on for a promise, to always watch over their line, to keep their children safe from Maeve, to ensure the goodness of the empire they had built. And with this promise in mind, he told his great great great great great great granddaughter that the tattoo was the story of a life well lived, a love to last the ages, and a promise. It was the story of a woman who had brought empires to their knees, who had brought glory and mercy and light, a woman whose name had been chanted in a wild frenzy of hope though entire continents, and a women who had loved more fiercely than any else he had know. A woman who he had loved, and who would have loved her. He told her it was the story of Aelin, and when Lysa had asked him, wide-eyed, if he meant her ancestor, and with a child’s curiosity and hope, if Aelin would have liked her, he gathered her fiercely up and told her that Aelin would have loved her, would have wanted her to shine.

  


_Long live the walls we crashed through_

_I had the time of my life, with you_

_Long, long live the walls we crashed through_

_How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you_

_And I was screaming long live all the magic we made_

_And bring on all the pretenders_

_I'm not afraid_

      Slowly, carefully, he stalked through the city, quiet and undetectable. He made his way up to Maeve’s pavilion, and stopped in the doorway. Maeve glanced up from her throne, the very picture of bored disinterest.

      “So, I see you’ve decided to return–either to grovel at my feet, or in a ridiculous and hopeless attempt to kill me at long last. I guarantee you, it won’t work. Far better men–and women–have tried, and have never quite succeeded. So, if you don’t want to end up a bloody splotch on the floor, I suggest you remove yourself from my kingdom at once–and never return. My allowance of your retreat is the only gift I shall ever give you.” Maeve glanced back down at the paper she was reading, confident in her power and his choices. The twin wolves at her feet bared their teeth in a feral growl, as if he hadn’t gotten the message. Rowan did not turn and leave however, simply stalked forwards. The wolves shot to their feet, transforming into deadly warriors in the blink of an eye, and darted forwards to block his access to their queen. Rowan stopped in front of them, and looked Maeve in the eye.

      “It might never have come to this, I might have left you alone for the rest of eternity, if you hadn’t constantly tried to kill Aelin, and our children. But they have always had to be on the watch for you, worried for the day your arrows might find a mark. You have brought fear into the hearts of those I love and serve for too long, and prevented me from joining Aelin in the merciful dark. I have had to endure an eternity without her because of you, and for that, you must be stopped.”

      Maeve let out a twinkling laugh, laced with those deadly undercurrents of darkness and ruthlessness. “You could never. You would never dare, and even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to. You’re just one man, you don’t even have the fire of your little queen with you–haven’’t had it for centuries. You are a nothing, worthless, and utterly alone.” She threw each word at him, each designed to bite and twist and hurt, so that he would be reduced to nothing, unable to so much as lift a match in her direction. But her words slid off him, and he only smiled.

      “You may be right. My carranam, my queen, may be dead. I might never feel her warmth in person ever again, but she, and all she represents, still burns as brightly as she did the day she freed kingdoms and made them shine. And it is for them, for my fireheart, that I have come today, at long last.” And with that, in a blinding flurry of speed, he sent ice daggers at the throats of the twins, not bothering to check if they landed as he launched himself at Maeve, bellowing one last time, “long live Aelin Fireheart, and all the magic she made!”  

      For all their protectiveness, Rowan knew that the twins hadn’t actually expected him to attack. Who would dare, knowing the outcome was certain death? But they had underestimated him, as always, and had not thought that Rowan might gladly have gone to the afterlife, if it meant taking Maeve with him, forever ensuring that his and Aelin’s children would be forever protected from Maeve. If it meant his last promise Aelin to protect them from Maeve might at last be fulfilled. So when he launched ice daggers at their necks, their Fae swiftness managed to let them dart aside, but they were not swift enough to dart in front of Rowan, to stop him as he flew at the Fae Queen, death and vengeance all wrapped up in one. Maeve, her eyes wide in shock, managed to fling her deadly magic at him as he lept, but he didn’t stop, let the dark magic hit him and punch through to his heart, as he flew at her and embedded his sword into her heart. Maeve stared at him in stunned horror as he looked into his eyes, and said, “For my true Queen,” reaching down to the last little bit of Aelin he carried, and lit the world on fire.

  


_Singing, long live all the mountains we moved_

_I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you_

_And long, long live the look on your face_

_And bring on all the pretenders_

_One day, we will be remembered_  

      He lay on the ground, dying. Fires crackled around him, as the burst of fire, of Aelin, that he had sent through the sword into Maeve’s heart had spread in deadly aftershocks. That was fine with him. The twins had been caught in the crossfire, and were dead. Maeve, too, was at long last gone. He had done it, freed his and Aelin’s line from their fear of her, fulfilled his last promise to Aelin. Soon he would be dead, his body burned, so that no one would be able to track Maeve’s death back to Terrasen, where their children could finally be safe. He had lived a long life, fought wyverns and the Vlag and endless threats and deadly creatures with his Fireheart by his side, her face lit up with fierce joy, looking at him with that boundless love. There had been attacks on her kingdom, pretenders who had hoped it would be easy to take advantage of a young queen, fresh out of a war. Together, they had obliviated them. They had created a glorious empire of fire and light, one that would be remembered forever. And with the death of Maeve, their last great enemy was dead. At long last, Rowan was at peace.

 

      At long last, he could see Aelin again, and finally join her forever, where they could never be separated again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like centuries of being carranam would have left some sort of permanent mark on their magics–perhaps blending them in a way. I feel like Aelin would have left a permanent mark on him, that her fire would somehow twist into him as he had twisted into her. Especially with the Amulet of Orynth... Anyways, that’s where that bit of fire magic came from, in case you were wondering. Ah well, artistic freedom and all that! Hope you all enjoyed! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
